I reach out to you on your day of birth and you respond by reinforcing the wall that stands between us. Built of heaviness and silence. I have hurt you, yet, I cannot understand entirely how, when it has always been you who wielded the knife. Severing the bond between us, whenever it seemed as though we were edging too close to one another’s hearts.
Now, you possess the affection of youth. The kind which is still naive to the ambivalence you are more than able to cast upon her, should you wish. She looks at you as though you are magic. The man in the hat, casting spells on hopeless romantics, yet again. I wonder lately though: are you a man, or a myth?
The years have come to pass. The seasons ever changing. My limbs have held others in deep, somewhat desperate longing and my heart has lurched in hapless directions. Searching. Always searching. For you. I have left wreckage in my path. Shed tears as though they were exhales. Been sorrowful and then calm. Grief ridden, then accepting. It’s a process, to unwed, from you.
Yet, I feel no hate. No animosity. No remorse. Occasional sadness, yes, but mostly because I miss your presence in my life. Your nature. Our wordless conversations. The way you look me in the eye, hold my gaze, speak to my soul. And I know that you have felt mine speak with yours. I know it was a pleasure and a pain. A fragile desire, wrapped in a lifetime of fear.
It hurts us both that I will never be the girl in the pictures. Never paint you with the likeness you deserve. Read Faust to you in German, by the light of many candles. Or gallivant merrily about town with you, arms linked, discussing the works of Caravaggio. We know I’m far too heavy for that. Too stubborn. Too real. I always wanted stillness. I wanted your presence. Your heart in my hands and your wounds on my tongue. I wanted you to take your makeup off for me. I wanted to see you naked and that was ultimately, something you were too afraid to do.
So, maybe now it’s finally time to bury you. Lay you to rest. Let your love bloom in another person’s garden. Give myself room to breathe, so that I can make space for another to show me their magic. Show me what it is to have my courage reciprocated. Show me themselves. I wish those things for you too. I can only ever wish you loving kindness. Because I know your soul - it speaks to me in dreams. Reminding me, that despite everything, we will always be connected. If not by flesh, then in essence.
Perhaps it is no longer à bientôt, but finally, au revoir.